


Worth the Wait

by TriscuitsandSoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental (dragon) baby acquisition, Dragon Riders, Dragons, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/pseuds/TriscuitsandSoup
Summary: Chopping trees was tougher without a hungry dragon to help out. A simple whack of a tail or snap of its jaws was enough to break most branches at the base. In his-heryounger days Stiles’ dragon, Wilder, could fell an oak in under half an hour. She was young and lean, her scales glimmering with flecks of soft yellow amidst her rust-colored flank. She was nearly the size of a horse and one hundred times as strong.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 177
Collections: Secret Steter BFFs





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whreflections](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/gifts).



Chopping trees was tougher without a hungry dragon to help out. A simple whack of a tail or snap of its jaws was enough to break most branches at the base. In his- _her_ younger days Stiles’ dragon, Wilder, could fell an oak in under half an hour. She was young and lean, her scales glimmering with flecks of soft yellow amidst her rust-colored flank. She was nearly the size of a horse and one hundred times as strong. 

Stiles shook nostalgic thoughts of her from his head. He leaned down and tied his bundle with a rope and threw it over his back. He’d tried to get the ones with the most foliage attached, but that wouldn’t harm the tree long term.

This part of the forest was closer to the edge of the woods than he would have liked, but without Wilder to ride on it was about as far as he could go on foot. There was a narrow path of stone and dead leaves delineating the trail from the rest of the woods. 

He walked for almost fifteen minutes before the trees started to thin and give way to a clearing. At the center was a large oak that reached up with sprawling branches to cast the rest of the clearing in shade. It was covered up and down in large claw marks, and laying before it was T’kinne, Chris’s dragon. T’kinne, gnarled and larger than a horse, basked in the river rocks that made up most of the front lawn. His scarred maw dangled open, thick globs of dragon saliva dripping from his teeth. 

At his side was Chris, back resting against T’kinne’s massive belly, eyes closed, arms resting on his knees. He opened his eyes when he heard Stiles’ footsteps crunching on the gravel. He beamed a smile at him. 

“Wondered where you got off to.” 

Stiles snorted. 

“You could have helped.” 

“I would have if it was my mistake to fix.” 

“How is it not? It literally takes two.” 

“I know my dragon,” Chris said, leaning forward to pat T’kinne’s tail that curled around him.

Stiles snorted. 

“Where’s Peter and his mini monster?” 

“Upstairs, with yours.” 

Stiles shifted the bundle off his back and let it drop to the ground with a thud. 

“Think your old guy can help me with this?” 

Stiles patted his belly. A burning warmth spread through his hand, but in a pleasant way, like a warm bath on a cold night.

T’kine opened one eye and let out a huff. With a creak of his bones he rolled onto his stomach. His eyes flashed with a greedy glint as he heaved himself up onto all fours. He shook his back, sending a spray of thin dirt down over them - conveniently spreading a wing over Chris. 

“Watch it, you big oaf!” Stiles said, holding up his arms to shield his eyes. 

T’kinne licked his lips with a forked tongue. He lurched forward, snapping up the bundle of branches. They stuck out on both sides of his mouth. 

“It’s not for you,” Chris said. He patted T’kinne on the side and heaved himself onto his back. He offered his hand to Stiles. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, grabbing it and letting himself up.

T’Kinne begrudgingly let Stiles clamber atop his massive back. Once they were both securely seated, He heaved onto his back feet and slammed into the oak. 

“Oof,” Stiles breathed.

“Easy, old guy,” Chris said, patting his flank. 

T’kinne grumbled. He latched onto the oak and began his slow descent up the massive tree. He could still fly, but his age was starting to catch up to him and it was harder to flap his wings. 

It took only a few minutes before they reached the top of the tree. Most of the branches had been cleared away or bent to accommodate the giant nest made of straw, cotton, and whatever other assorted items the dragons thought would make a comforting home. In the center of it all was Wilder, curled up proudly around her seven eggs. 

Beside her, Peter and Culprit sat. A book rested on Peter’s knee, but he looked up from it when T’kinne finished his scramble over the side and dumped the pile of branches on the ground. 

Culprit pricked his ears. He was the smallest of the three, barely larger than a housecat. His scales were mottled in grey, black, and white. He scampered over to the nest, eagerly snatching one of the branches from the pile. He then climbed over the eggs, standing on top of the centermost one, and offered it to Wilder with a puffed out chest. 

Wilder snorted, but accepted the branch. She snapped it in half and swallowed it without chewing. 

Culprit preened at having provided for his perceived mate. Despite his miniscule stature he was determined to assert his paternity. 

Peter chuckled and scratched him under his chin. 

Stiles slid off T'kinnes back and dropped to his knees beside Wilder. She lifted her scaley head and rested it on his knees. With her throat against him he could hear the happy rumblings in her throat as she watched Culprit spit tiny flames over her eggs to keep them warm while she munched on the branches they brought. 

“How’s she doing?” 

“Fine.”

“Any signs?”

“No. It’s still going to be a few weeks before they hatch. You know that, right?” Peter asked, setting down his book.

“Then why are you up here?” 

“I am a provider.”

“You provide me with headaches every day,” Chris said. 

“And you wonder why I spend my days in the tree.” 

Stiles couldn’t help a small smile as he watched them bicker. It sucked not being able to ride on Wilder’s back, or travel all across the country with her at his side - back when he thought she was a he - but he would gladly give it up time and time again for his home he’d made in the trees.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BFF DAY WHRE <3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it <3


End file.
